The Times and Tribulations of Rory Flanagan
by PaperAndPens
Summary: Rory Flanagan never had it easy starting at McKinley, but after the bullying gets too violent, he gets transferred to Dalton Academy. With new friends, new relationships and a certain blonde boy, how will Rory cope?   Rory x Sam , Angsty. Please review!


**IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ!**

**Author's Note : Hello! Thank you for taking the time to read this fanfic, as I would like to note, this is my first time writing glee fanfiction, so if I have anything wrong, please comment to let me know.**

**Anyway, this is an AU fanfic. So everything that goes on here doesn't necessarily happen on Glee, so please keep that in mind. The Sam/Rory bits in the Christmas episode never happened, the duel with Artie to get a date with Sugar never happened, and Kurt never transferred to Dalton and back to McKinley, and neither did Blaine. Sam is in Dalton Academy, with the rest of the Warblers (including Blaine, still the same solo-stealer). So incase anything seemed confusing, now you know. Thank you!**

**.: The Times and Tribulations of Rory Flanagan :.**

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Loud, stammering strikes of the clock sent the vein on Rory's head throbbing like crazy. The eerily quiet classroom and the mocking ticking made him even more antsy about the fact he had his mid-morning slushie session coming up, featuring none other than the neanderthal jocks to give him a slushie facial. Rory stopped mid-nibble on his pencil to pack up his belongings as the bell sounded in the background, and swooped out of the door. His mind returned to the fact that the jocks were giving him a very, _very_ warm welcome to America. When he signed up to the exchange programme, the last thing he was expecting was the treatment he had received on a daily basis, the harsh remarks and the mass amounts of kids bustling through the hallways of his new school. He had always felt like another kid in the crowd, like he never really contributed to anything in this school. It was just how it was.

Rory tried to concentrate on putting one foot infront of the other, but it seemed as if the jocks had already got up with him. As he turned the corner, a shockwave hit him full on as cold, colored ice greeted his face, harsh laughs and woops following soon after. Rory released his tight grip on his books, letting them drop to the floor, soaking in the red puddle of melted ice. He raised his fingers to his eyes, wiping away the excess slushie from his face. Grunts and sniggers could be heard down the hallway as Rory stood there in shock, fluttering open his eyes to find the suspects. They had been long gone by the time he opened his eyes, revealing people snickering at his misfortune, all scattered down the hallway, talking to their friends or collecting their books. He wondered how he could be treated like a bag of rotten potatoes for no apparent reason. He sighed, crouching down, even though he was soaked in ice and becoming increasingly more uncomfortable by the second. Cursing under his breath, he finished picking up his belongings to spot a group of glee-clubbers halfway down the corridor. He watched them talk in an animated manner, a pit forming in his lower abdomen. How he longed for a group of people he could call 'friends', people he could count on and people he could spend time with.

He rarely talked to others whilst he was in the choir room. The moment he walked through those doors, his gaze turned stony and solemn, and his blue eyes drained of any color. Rachel would be bellowing through an hour-long monologue, Finn would be staring into space and the others would be warped up in their own business. The thing that hurt the most was that no one even lifted their gaze to peer in Rory's direction to check if he was alright. He kept his eyes stuck to walls, occasionally glancing in someone's direction. He never signed up for solos, as he knew well enough already Rachel would have your head if you stole her solo, or someone would put him to shame as soon as he opened his mouth. Rory pulled out his phone to check the time, acknowledging it was time for glee club. Mid-sigh, he wiped off some ice from his shoulder and began to make his way towards the choir room. Pushing through the doors, everyone was already in their own conversations, wrapped up in their own oddities. Rory inwardly sighed, raking a hand through his dark hair as he took a seat away from most of the group. Mr. Shue began to go into his long speech about ballads when Rory decided to let himself get lost inside his head.

As Mr. Shue dismissed the club, Rory got up and collected his things, darting through the choir room doors. He didn't fancy hanging around waiting for Brittany to finish gossiping with Santana in the parking lot to go home, so he decided to just walk straight towards the Pierce's house. The brunette never let his loneliness get to him, but sometimes he couldn't hold it in. People would assume he would sit around in self pity, lying on his bed near to tears, but he had more destructive tendencies, unbeknownst to plenty. Back in Ireland, he couldn't help get a little pent-up at people, usually destroying things people held close to them. When he was younger and his brothers would endlessly torment him, he'd usually repay them by destroying their brand-new items. This resorted in even worse behaviour as he grew up, causing him to break ridiculous amounts of things due to his anger. Moving to America was the best solution in his parents' minds, allowing him to cool off and grow up a little. He found crushing the things people cherished the most was a great way to cope.

The pit in his stomach grew more rowdy and uncontrollable, but as soon as he turned into the parking lot, the sight of a group of jocks sent shockwaves through his body. The pit in his stomach deteriorated, replaced with a scratching feeling. his ankles. Escaping them would be impossible, so he figured it'd be better to stand his ground than flee. Karofsky lifted his head to peer up at Rory, his eyes resembling mischeif. The rest of the jocks whipped their necks around to see what the problem was, and they felt the corners of their mouths tug into a tight smirk.

"Oh hey, _fairy_!", one of the boys called out, slapping his fist into the palm of his hand, grinning a little too enthusiastically. Rory felt his heart sink to his stomach, and the irreplaceable need to flee left him. In the back of his mind, he knew he had no hope against five or so jocks. Karofsky stepped closer, closing the gap between them ever so slowly, little by little. His grin faltered as Rory's slender figure straightened, refusing to back down this time. The jock smirked at his attempt to become the alpha-male, and sent a kick to his shin, with hopes to send Rory to the ground. He was right, as the Irish boy sank to his knees, clutching at his left shin. He bit his lip, trying to suck in any cry of pain. Karofsky picked up the boy by his collar, and Rory's figure disappeared into a sea of letterman jackets. He began to beat down the Irish boy, sending fists into his abdomen, kicks to his legs and punches to his face. Rory wanted to sink into the ground, to never come back. He felt as if he was being attacked by a bunch of rottweilers, thrown into a tank of piranhas and then mauled to death by a few bears. Inside the group of attacking jocks was Rory's broken body, wails and cries of pain emitting from the boy.

The fighting ceased when the jocks had had enough, the hits becoming far and few between, weaker and weaker. Karofsky began to step back, admiring his 'improvements' to the boy's face. Bruises and cuts adorned Rory's face, his limbs feeling as if they've been ripped off. He lay there in pain as the group broke up, leaving the boy deserted in the parking lot. Trucks started up and engines revved, and not a single trace of the jocks were left. The feeling made a reappearance in Rory's lower abdomen, the empty feeling scratching the insides of his stomach to tatters. He felt as if no one would ever come, no one would ever glance in his direction as he laid there in unrelenting pain. The Pierces wouldn't care, the school wouldn't either, and his family wouldn't even send their condolences. He knew he'd never be able to get them back for the pain the caused or the damage they made.

...

_Two Weeks Later_

Rory stared up at the dingy white (now grey) ceiling tiles of his clinic. He felt himself sigh, letting time consume him and his boredom. He pulled down the sheets, pulling up his medical gown to inspect his wounds. He didn't have the heart to see them, even if he's been in that clinic for two weeks already. Rory was sure they looked worse when the incident happened, but he didn't want to think about the evening he was found in the parking lot, beaten and bloody. He couldn't get the look on Brittany's face when he was found out of his head, her typically sparkly blue eyes turned a dreary shade of grey, her mouth covered by her lithe hand and the pure look of shock plastered across her face. She fumbled with her phone to call an ambulance, but she didn't have the tools to put the pieces together and find out who did this. Afterall, she wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. Santana had to carry her away once he was rushed off to hospital, and she needed to be sat down and reassured everything would be fine.

_Brittany sauntered through the parking lot, adjoined to Santana by her pinky. A sweet smile was placed on her lips, highlighting her young features. Her eyes guided her to a figure in the middle of the parking lot, making her stop dead in her tracks. She blinked multiple times, tightening her grip on Santana's pinky._

_"Santa?", the blonde chirped anxiously. Bemused by the fact she was being referred to a fat man who brings presents to children on Christmas Eve, Santana almost giggles. The latina's gaze follows Brittany's, feeling her stop abruptly._

_"Oh my..." Santana was cut off by Brittany releasing her grip, sprinting off towards the figure. She felt as if time had stopped, the sun remained halfway in the sky, the birds stopped their chirping and the world stood still. She followed Brittany towards Rory, and held her hand as she crouched down. No words were exchanged at that moment, and the girls stood in silence as vital seconds passed._

_Santana's eyes went from Rory, to Brittany's almost dead expression. Her eyes watered and she could almost see her heart drop to the ground. "Leprecaun!", the blonde wailed, tears escaping her crystal blue eyes. The latina felt her heart break, more vunerable then ever. Her chocolate brown eyes shot back to the Irish boy, his bruises staining his pale skin, as he laid there, curled up into a ball._

_Brittany wailed even louder, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Call them!" She shook Santana, but she remained almost dead in stature. "Call the ambulance, Santa!" Blonde strands fell infront of her face, concealing her running makeup and her heartbroken expression. Santana fumbled with her phone as she struggled to find the buttons. Her eyes were clouded with tears, and she found it almost impossible to see the too-bright screen._

_After a few minutes of rocking back and forth and reassurances, the ambulance arrived, sirens filling the haunting atmosphere. As they watched the crew load Rory into the ambulance, Santana and Brittany stood in silence, watching them fumble with his frail body. They silently agreed to pretend he was going to be fine, but deep down they both knew the chances were slim._

However, luck was on the Irish boy's side. He only had a sprained wrist and a fractured rib, apart from the bruises that adorned his slender body. Purple and blue marks scattered his chest and legs, ruining his typically light complexion. He worried if they'd ever get off, or he'd look like bruised potato for the rest of his life. The last thing he was worrying about was his appearance. He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror hanging from the wall, a few cracks present. Rory's eyes were sunken and haunting, his hair messy and his face drained of any color. He lifted up his uninjured hand, wriggled his fingers about and watched his veins, clearly visible, underneath his skin. Bemused by the fact that he could even see his veins, he sat on the hospital bed, inspecting his marks and bruises, careful not to touch any.

Living in this hospital suite was the (second) most dreadful experience he had to endure. He hated the stained white wallpaper hanging off the walls, the dirty tiles and the putrid stench. Machines littered the room, keeping track of his health and heartbeat. Rory's eyes landed on a flower arrangement sat on his end table, admiring the eye-catching colors. They seemed almost blinding against the bland white decor and unsettling atmosphere. Enclosed inside was a sweet message from the Pierces, wishing him the best of luck, and promising many visits. Rory felt himself sigh at the thought of only being in America for a month and already having a near-death experience. It was so like him to get himself into situations like this.

Rory clamped his eyes shut, breathing in the stale smell and feeling the crispy sheets, wishing he was anywhere else but here. The pain was no longer as excruciating, but there was always a headache to accompany him throughout the day. Brittany paid vists often, always telling him how much the New Directions missed him, and expected him back soon so they could hear his wonderful voice, but inside he knew he had barely made any impact. He could feel them sitting in the choir room right now, talking about Sectionals, Regionals, whatever the hell it was they talked about all the time. He felt as if being in the glee club was just a waste of time, a pointless way to spend the day, no matter how many jam sessions they had.

He didn't miss the classes he had to fight through to stay awake, the hallway rush or the jocks. Certainly _not _the jocks. He despised their smug faces, their tacky handshakes and their letterman jackets. Even if wearing a letterman jacket got you a date. Rory raked a hand through his brown hair, strands falling infront of his tired face. A wave of tiredness overcame him, so he wrapped the unfamiliar, cold sheets around him and ignored the shooting pain in his sides as he clamped his eyes shut, trying to block out anymore thoughts.

...

Rory stirred in his sleep as he heard several knocks on his door. A familiar face popped their head around the door, smiling. It was Mr. Pierce and the rest of the family. Rory ran a hand through his hair, greeting the family as they filed into the clinic. Brittany shot him a smile as the family all sat down on the hard plastic chairs, taking in the bland suite.

"Rory," Mr. Pierce begans, a small smile appeared on his lips. "It's so nice to see you're recovering." He spoke in his typically formal tone, shooting him a glance as Rory sat up against the metal headboard.

"You know what they say," Rory began, "Slow and steady wins the race." He let out a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck. He ignored the sharp pain surging through his body, and smiled towards the family.

Mr. Pierce smiled again, "We have some news we'd like to share with you, Rory." He felt his smile falter, but still attempted to keep his tone serious.

"Oh.", was all that could escape Rory's mouth. He dreaded any kind of news, which brought him back to the time when his parents had sat him down and told him they were signing them up to the exchange programme. He felt his stomach thread itself into knots, letting the rage inside him brood into unrelenting anger. He set his hand over his mother's favorite vase, picking it up and letting it drop the ground. Before anyone could stop him, he pushed over the cabinet containing his father's prized figurines and trinkets. After the whole debacle, the living room looked like a bombsite. Rory stood in the middle of the debris, curled up into a ball. His parents had had enough of him acting like a child, sending him off to America as soon as they could. Countless talks with therapists, visits to the school counselor, nothing could stop the effects of his rage.

"We talked to your principal." Rory felt his breath hitch, his eyes meeting the mans. His parents tried making numerous visits to his old headmaster, but it still made no use. But he assumed this visit was for something else. "We were led to believe some boys were giving you trouble?" Rory felt himself nod, gaining a look from Brittany that said, _Why didn't you tell me?_ Silence fell in the room and the awkward atmosphere settled in.

Mr. Pierce continued, "He's sorted some things out, and a few boys are being suspended." Rory felt his blood boiling. He had heard the story about Kurt, where Karofsky was expelled for shoving Kurt into a locker and calling him a fag. Rory was beaten to an inch of his life, but all they get is a suspension? He somehow managed to keep his temper, but the line from calm to bloody crazy was drawing thin for Rory. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, nearly dissolving in the pit that was forming.

"We've arranged for you to transfer schools, Rory.", Mr. Pierce finally stammered out, his serious tone faltering. "But we're sure it would be the best thing for you right now." The Irish boy didn't know whether to feel ecstatic or furious. He wanted to shout out in relief that he would be away from his attackers, but the other half of him was purely annoyed at the fact that he was just settling in. He couldn't lie to himself though, he was having a fairly rough time at McKinley. His eyes flickered from Brittany to her mother, their faces solemn and cold. He couldn't read their expressions just yet, but he was sure he looked fuming. They sat in silence as Rory sat there, contemplating on whether he should just refuse to go. He didn't want to be a burden though, since he had told himself he should be someone different in America. Rory felt as if he was treading carefully now he was living with the Pierces.

He tried to look somewhat thankful, mustering up a smile for Mr. Pierce. "This school, what is it?"

Mr. Pierce's face lit up, no longer fiddling with his jacket. "We've arranged for you to enroll in Dalton Academy." The Irish boy couldn't find the excitement to smile, let alone express his gratitude. He simply smirked, remembering the rumors about that place. All they used to say in McKinley was that it was just a school for fags. Or atleast, that's all that the jocks said. He wondered what it would be like being in that school. The only boys he'd seen from there were the Warblers, the New Directions' rival show choir. They seemed a nice bunch, but the rest of the glee club didn't think so. Rory knew Kurt was dating some guy from there, Blaine, but it wasn't like most of the group approved with it. Everytime Kurt would mention him, Rachel would jump up and shout 'Traitor!'. Although it was comical, it didn't help the fact that he felt as if he was the traitor himself. Rory felt as if he was stabbing each of the glee clubbers in the back, retreating to another school.

After a few more minutes of small talk, they got up to leave, wishing Rory the best of luck in recovery. As far as he knew, he could be home in a week or two. The thought was nice, but the pain still presents made it seem as if he'd never go home again. Rory didn't want to think of staying in this place any longer, the more he lied in that bed, the more he felt as if he was going insane. He wrapped himself up in his sheets again, dismissed the aching in his bones and felt himself drifting off.

...

Nerves began to take over Rory as he stumbled along the stone path, suitcase trailing along behind him. Brittany walked infront, taking in the beautiful view of the academy. Her mouth hung open, gaping at the amazing architecture and scenery of the prestigous school. As Rory huddled along the path, getting caught once in a while on a rock with his suitcase, Brittany kept loudly taking note on how great the school was. All Rory could do was laugh at her eagerness. She seemed so much happier now that he was fully recovered, but on the other hand a little sad at the fact he was transferring. She refused to believe he was moving school, and she could no longer keep an eye out for her leprecaun. Eventually, Brittany decided to be a good sport and say her final goodbye to him by the time her got to his dorm room.

As they made their way through the elegant gates of Dalton, they harboured a lot of attention from the students, mainly because there was an attractive blonde beside the new kid. They were probably used to seeing girls in school due to some teachers, but they acted as if they had never seen a female life form on this planet. Brittany ignored it nonetheless, and once they had made their way through the courtyard (after several attempts of getting up the stairs with a huge suitcase), they had gotten lost in the mess that was Dalton. Long, winding hallways, ridiculously large staircases and too many students roaming around the corridors. Rory had figured out _now _was a bad time to settle in, being the middle of the year. He didn't want to mess up again, like he did at McKinley. He knew how boys could be, and he really didn't want anymore attention, apart from the fact that he was a new kid. Rory knew how cruel they were in McKinley, but he was hoping intolerance for bullying here would work. He raked a hand through his combed hair, trying to figure out where he was going.

Brittany snatched the letter from his hand, skimming through it to find the details for his dorm. Rory was bemused by her expression, utterly clueless. "It says... 247." She muttered, handing the crisp white paper back to him. After twenty minutes of powerwalking, they finally found the dorm. They went down a long corridor, doors on each side of them. Right above a sleek wooden door was the number, 247. _Right, _Rory thought, _Just act casual._ As he turned the polished handle, a large explosion was heard from inside the room. Before Rory and Brittany stood two singed boys in the middle of their dorm, goggles around their eyes. Inbetween them was something that resembled a science experiment, or _used _to resemble one. The taller boy pulled the goggles from his face, letting them dangle from his neck.

"I see you've stumbled upon our little... experiment." The taller boy said. He had short brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. The shorter boy looked over, slightly bemused.

"Who are you?", the shorter boy inquired, raising an eyebrow at the pair of them. He had sharp features and long dark hair. Rory edged away from the doorframe, trying to look as if he wasn't totally afraid.

"I-... Um, I'm Rory Flanagan, new student." He stammered. He didn't mean to come out sounding like a terrified new kid, but he didn't really try to conceal it. "I'm meant to be staying in this dorm."

The two singed boys exchanged a glance, then looked back at Rory. "No, you're not. This dorm's full." Rory felt his face flush. _You've been in here half an hour, and you've already made yourself look like an idiot. _He felt himself sigh as the taller boy came over and snatched the paper from his hand. He glanced up at Rory again, smirking. "Your dorm's 193." Rory felt himself blush again, wanting the floor to swallow him up.

"You must have confused it with your locker." The shorter boy said from across the room. The sheer awkwardness of this encounter would sting for a little while. "Oh.", was all Rory could say. A giggle could be heard from behind him, Brittany still standing by the doorframe. Rory turned on his heel, walking towards the door as he grabbed Brittany by the elbow. He muttered a short goodbye to the boys, feeling his face turn a light shade of red. He wasn't going to live this down anytime soon.

After about another ten minutes of stomping through the deserted hallways, they finally reached their dorm. As he turned the handle, Rory could feel the mood lighten. The room was completely empty, and on the bed lay a note. Before he reached the note, he looked around the room briefly. He drew back the curtains slightly, peering out over the now empty courtyard. He smiled at the view, knowing he had gotten one of the better rooms. Brittany began to inspect just about everything, rifling through drawers and taking out clothes.

Rory felt himself blush again, "Brittany!" he exclaimed, "Stop! You're gonna make me look like a snoop if you mess up their stuff!". He dashed towards her, slamming the drawers shut. Her face remained neutral, but her gaze remained on him. "I'm gonna miss you, Rory." He rolled his eyes at her, knowing that he'd be home in time for dinner, anyway. She embraced him in a hug, staying for a little too long. Brittany patted him on the back, and turned on her heel to walk out of the dorm.

Rory felt as if he'd been deserted. Now that Brittany was gone, he felt as if he was starting out at McKinley again, and he couldn't stand the thought of being an outcast at Dalton either. He gazed around the room, musing about who would he be sharing the dorm with. Would they be really brash, rude guys? He felt himself tense up at the thought. He didn't want another group of jocks pushing him into lockers and kicking him around. The Irish boy sighed, finding a vacant dresser to put his clothes in. He began to unpack and watched the birds gather outside his new dorm's window, chirping out a sweet melody after he had opened the window every so slightly. He knew that he wasn't all that welcome yet, but he couldn't feel a little at home. Whenever he felt stressed, he'd just lean on his windowsill in his old room in Ireland, and listen to the birds sing, keeping him at ease. Rory felt himself smile at the thought of home, glad at the fact that he could start over again.

His eyes guided him back to the letter sitting on his bed. Rory picked it up, smiling at the tidy handwriting and care put into the letter.

_Welcome to Dalton, Rory. We have ensured that you have a dresser ready for use and a bed, and we have also taken to asking your teachers for your timetable. We hope like Dalton Academy and that you feel welcome in our school._

_Your roommates, Dean, Oscar and Ryan. _

Rory felt tingles rolling over his spine, making him even more nervous then before. He was excited too, but he knew it was hard to make friends, atleast for him. He imagined what each of them would look like, and how they would welcome him. A small smile appeared on his lips, and he plopped himself down on the bed, letting him stare up at the plain beige ceiling. He couldn't help feeling at home already.

**Author's Note : Hope you enjoyed that first chapter, and that I didn't murder the storyline that badly. Please review and tell me what you think, or what should happen next chapter. This will be a multi-chapter story, and I will be updating frequently. Thank you!**


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